25. The Hottest Man With a Toolbox
Chapter twenty-five
The Hottest Man With a Toolbox
Piper
By Wednesday afternoon, Azure Palms had become the internet’s favorite emotional support resort.
I hated everything.
Mostly because people were enjoying it way too much.
“Piper!” Bianca came sprinting across the courtyard holding three phones and what looked like spiritual excitement. “You’re trending too!”
I stopped walking immediately.
“…I beg your pardon?”
Bianca shoved a screen directly into my face.
WHO IS THE GIRL WHO STOLE THE BILLIONAIRE MAINTENANCE MAN’S HEART?
My soul briefly left my body.
“Oh absolutely not.”
The article included:
blurry photos of me and Graham talking
me laughing beside him at the crab boil
the sea turtle incident
a horrifyingly romantic photo from the marina dock
The caption underneath read:
Sources say Azure Palms staff have long suspected chemistry between Mercer and inn manager Piper Bennett.
I closed my eyes slowly.
“Murder,” I whispered. “I’m choosing murder.”
Bianca looked delighted.
“This is the best week of my life.”
“Bianca, people are writing fan fiction.”
“That means you’re culturally relevant.”
“That means society collapsed.”
Around us, guests openly stared now.
Not cruelly. Worse.
Romantically.
A group of women near the smoothie bar literally sighed when Graham crossed the courtyard carrying supply crates.
One whispered: “There he is.”
Another clutched her chest dramatically.
“He carries boxes with billionaire energy.”
Fair.
Infuriatingly fair.
Because now that I knew who he really was…
everything looked different.
Not fake. Never fake.
Just layered.
The way he instinctively took charge. How people deferred to him unconsciously. The quiet confidence beneath everything.
Oh no.
The billionaire thing fit him entirely too well.
Linda from Wisconsin walked past fanning herself with a resort brochure.
“I’m telling you right now,” she informed Bianca solemnly, “that man could explain hurricane preparedness to me for HOURS.”
Bianca nodded immediately.
“Educational thirst.”
I escaped toward the quieter garden pathways behind the spa trying unsuccessfully to outrun my own emotions.
Which was difficult because apparently every plant on the island now reminded me of Graham.
That palm tree? He’d probably funded it emotionally.
That lantern? Probably hand-installed by billionaire forearms.
I needed help.
Professional help.
Or tequila.
Possibly both.
“Miss Bennett?”
I froze.
Daniel Hargrove stood near the orchid garden with his phone tucked into one pocket and deeply unwelcome professionalism.
Oh good. The human migraine.
“What now?” I asked flatly.
His expression softened slightly.
“You look overwhelmed.”
“You detonated my personal life online. Gold star for observation.”
To his credit, guilt flickered briefly across his face.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
“That wasn’t my intention.”
“Really? Because your article currently has women on TikTok rating Graham’s emotional availability based on tool usage.”
Daniel blinked once.
“…I did not predict that outcome.”
“Neither did civilization.”
“One woman made a twelve-minute video analyzing his cargo shorts psychologically,” I added.
Daniel looked genuinely shaken.
He exhaled slowly.
“For what it’s worth, I never intended to hurt you.”
The sincerity in his voice irritated me more somehow.
Because now I couldn’t even fully hate him properly.
Rude.
I crossed my arms tightly.
“You exposed private people for a story.”
“I exposed a billionaire hiding in plain sight.”
“He wasn’t hurting anyone.”
Daniel studied me carefully.
“No,” he admitted quietly. “I don’t think he was.”
That startled me enough to pause.
The ocean breeze stirred softly through the gardens while distant laughter drifted from the resort pools.
Azure Palms still looked beautiful despite the media chaos now exploding around it.
Daniel glanced toward the main courtyard thoughtfully.
“I’ve covered wealthy men my entire career,” he said. “Most of them want to be seen.”
Graham didn’t.
The truth of that sat heavily in my chest.
Daniel continued quietly:
“Your Mr. Mercer spent years making himself smaller on purpose.”
The words hit unexpectedly hard.
Because yes.
Exactly that.
Not deceptive. Protective.
And suddenly I saw him differently all over again – the cargo shorts, the maintenance work, the quietness, the refusal to stand above anyone.
Not pretending.
Hiding.
There was a difference.
And suddenly it felt enormous.
My chest ached.
Daniel looked back toward me carefully.
“He loves this place.”
There was no accusation in it now. Only observation.
I swallowed slowly.
“Yeah.”
“And he loves you.”
The words landed like a lightning strike.
Immediate. Blinding. Impossible to dodge.
I stared at him.
Daniel’s expression stayed calm.
“It’s painfully obvious,” he added gently.
The world seemed to tilt slightly sideways.
Because hearing it from Eleanor felt romantic.
Hearing it from an outside observer?
Terrifying.
Real.
I looked away quickly toward the ocean.
“He never said that.”
“He didn’t need to.”
The man practically looked heartbroken every time I walked away.
Emotion tightened hard in my throat unexpectedly.
The memory hit instantly – the way Graham looked at me, the way he protected me, the fear in his voice on the lighthouse.
If I tell you the truth, you might walk away.
Oh no.
No no no.
The realization crashed through me all at once:
He hadn’t hidden the truth because he enjoyed deceiving me.
He hid it because losing normal human connection terrified him.
And somehow—horribly—
Completely-I understood that.
Daniel shifted awkwardly.
“I owe you an apology.”
That surprised me enough to look back.
“For what?”
“For turning something personal into public entertainment.”
The honesty in his voice softened some small angry part of me despite myself.
“Yeah,” I admitted quietly. “You kinda did.”
He nodded once.
“I’m sorry.”
Silence settled between us.
Then—
“PIPER!”
I turned instantly.
Marco came sprinting through the garden paths waving both arms dramatically.
“THERE YOU ARE.”
“What happened now?”
Marco bent over breathing hard.
“Your mother’s here.”
My stomach dropped straight into the ocean.
“…What?”
“Your mom. In the lobby. Watching entertainment news.”
Absolute horror flooded my bloodstream instantly.
Because my mother treated wealthy men the way raccoons treated open garbage cans – with frightening determination and no shame whatsoever.
Oh dear God.
“No,” I whispered.
Marco pointed frantically toward the resort.
“She keeps asking where the billionaire is and I’m emotionally unequipped.”
Daniel looked alarmed now too.
“What’s wrong?”
I looked him dead in the eyes.
“You may have just released my mother into billionaire mating season.”
And then I ran.